Fragments of Memories
by Noxxus
Summary: HP/DM DM/HP One-shots. Covering a variety of topics highlighting different tropes and AUs. Each chapter is a different one-shot and comes with summaries. The general word count for a one-shot is around 2000 words. May include other pairings but will not be the focus of the one-shot. Warnings will be put at the beginning of the one-shot. Not all one-shots will be M.
1. Sea Foam

**Title – **Sea Foam

**Summary –** Harry has retired from being an Auror and lives a quiet life by the ocean. When he visits the Ministry for a meeting he runs into a blast from the past, and seems unable to shake his hero-complex.

**Rating –** T

* * *

The ocean was something special. Harry loved the salt, the sand. He loved the perfect blue skies, he loved the gentle drizzles, and he loved the fierce storms that turned the waves into angry steel beasts. His home was only a few minutes away from the beach and he made point to visit it often. The sand was soft and fine between his toes and the air smelled unbelievably fresh. It was beautiful.

On the evening of a warm summer day, Harry spent his time on the beach. His hair was a wild black mess on his head, waving madly in the strong winds. Water lapped over his feet; he was just close enough that it brushed his toes. It was a cool and welcome in the sticky heat. He felt good listening to the ocean waves sweeping up the beach. His green eyes were nearly blue with the reflection of the night waves.

While living with the Dursleys he'd never seen the ocean. Now that the war was over and he had his own place he couldn't help but visit it. The ocean was an endless blue, pure freedom. It was dangerous and beautiful, calm and violent. It made him feel peaceful.

No people were on the beach. It was barren. No footsteps in the sand, asides from his own, no voices to be heard. Only the gulls above made noise. The sky was filled with stars, a gorgeous silver moon as the centerpiece. Its light glittered off of the water, a dazzling sight. Harry sighed and laid on his back, feeling the sand eagerly bond with his sweat.

Wonderful relaxation. After Hogwarts he'd decided to be an Auror, but quickly learned he couldn't handle more bloodshed. He retired with his fortunes and moved to a small wizarding town by the ocean. Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley would come to visit but often he was alone. It wasn't particularly lonely he supposed. He didn't crave company, although he wouldn't mind it. For a while he'd considered getting a dog, but after Sirius the furry creatures had lost their appeal. Besides, it was peaceful enough alone.

It was well late when he returned home. His house was a little cottage a few minutes away. No lights were in his windows but it gave a cozy warmth and invitation that he could only compare to The Burrow. No houses were very close to his, the nearest a good ten minutes away on foot. Not that wizards usually went on foot. Harry just didn't enjoy Apparating.

For dinner he had mashed potatoes and gravy. Mrs. Weasley had taught him some general household spells when he'd first gotten his home, so the potatoes weren't burnt. They tasted reasonably good, although nothing compared to the woman herself's. As he chewed, Harry mulled over the idea of visiting The Burrow tomorrow. It would be nice to pop up, although Ron would probably be busy with work.

Hermione and Ron were living at The Burrow but Ron wasn't usually home until late at night. He was an Auror. Originally, he and Harry had been partners before Harry quit. He'd been very supportive, even though he didn't really understand why Harry would quit. Sometimes Harry didn't even understand why he quit. Was he a failure of a Gryffindor to quit his job saving people? His chest hurt every time he thought of what his parents would think.

With a clatter he put his plate in the sink and turned on the water. It quickly warmed to near scalding, turning his fingers pink as he washed the dishes that had accumulated. The smell of lavender soap calmed him down and he let his mind relax. Even here he could hear the ocean. Tomorrow he'd be going for a quick meeting at the Ministry with his lawyer and then he supposed he'd visit The Burrow. It would be nice to see Hermione and Mrs. Weasley. With a squeak he turned off the water and began towel drying the dishes. Doing things by hand was relaxing. Even now, doing magic still made him feel uneasy; a scar of living with the Dursleys.

* * *

The Ministry was filled with the usual bustle when he arrived. His disguise was a scruffy beard and shabby robes and it was astounding how effective it was. Nobody wanted to look at someone who wasn't presented in a normal way. He took the lifts up to the floor his lawyer's office was on and dropped his disguise. The halls were cleanly polished stone and a deep blue carpet lined the floor of the hall. Occasionally colorful memos would whizz by, off to wherever they were going. Harry was unobstructed until he was only a couple minutes away.

When he rounded the corner he came face to face with a duel. Two men stood across from each other, wands raised. Magic was crackling in the air, visible as a slight waver as though a heat wave. Harry stepped back instantly but both men turned to look at him. One he didn't recognize; a man with bright blue eyes and grey hair. The other was a pale man who had platinum blonde hair that fell around his shoulders and steely silver eyes; Draco Malfoy.

"Long time, no see, Potter," Malfoy said, a mocking sneer in place.

Harry nodded at him and made to walk on. The grey haired man raised his wand so quickly it was a blur. Reflexes moving like a cobra, Harry drew his own wand and threw up a Shield Charm with such force the man was blasted into the wall. The man wasn't moving from his slump so Harry approached him cautiously. With a whisper he cast a quick spell and confirmed the man was indeed out cold. He turned to see Malfoy with an odd expression on his face.

"You defended me."

"I defended myself," Harry said carefully.

Malfoy took a step forward, "Kylos wouldn't have attacked you. He was attacking me and you defended me. Why?"

"It's not the first time," He said, pocketing his wand.

For a moment there was silence and he knew they were both thinking of the same thing. Even now he remembered the smell of smoke, the blistering heat. Malfoy's expression had closed down, a blank smooth mask. Harry knew it too well from during the Malfoys' trial. Anything to do with the war brought out that emotionless side of Malfoy. Harry supposed he could understand the need for it. Often, it was only his ability to supress his emotions that let him survive losing so many people he loved.

"Anyways," Harry said uncomfortably into the silence, "I have to go. I have a meeting to get to."

"Where do you live?" Malfoy asked.

"Why?"

Malfoy cocked his head, "It's my duty to repay you. I'll have a gift sent over."

Harry frowned, "I don't want a gift from you."

"It's required I give you a gift," Malfoy said, "Where do you live?"

"It doesn't matter," Harry said firmly, and began walking away.

He could feel Malfoy's eyes on him as he walked. It made him feel uneasy but also something else he really couldn't pinpoint. When he arrived at his lawyer's office she was harassed and annoyed at his lateness, but the meeting was over quickly. When he returned to the hall Malfoy was gone. Of course. For a couple seconds he felt like an idiot for hoping he'd be there, but the feeling passed and he continued on to his next destination; The Burrow.

* * *

Cool water washed between his toes, swirling with sea foam. They were digging steady trenches in the sand that would fill with water every time the waves came in. It kept him centered, even though he wanted to scream. His nightmares had been bad. He felt bad. Everything was bad, but not this. He filled his lungs with a breath of salty air and exhaled slowly. He just had to stay calm. The sky was a lazy blue over the ocean, and the sun beat down on him as his thoughts spiraled around. He heard someone swear behind him and turned to look.

Malfoy was tromping towards him across the sand. He was still straightening up from what had been a stumble and had a box slung under his arm. Today he was wearing lighter robes made for hotter weather. Harry didn't say anything until Malfoy was beside him.

"How'd you find me?"

Malfoy scoffed, "It wasn't hard, Potter. Information can easily be acquired if you look in the right places. Finding the village you lived in was easy enough and the locals were eager to blab and say that you were always at this beach."

Harry shrugged, "Well you found me. What do you want?"

Malfoy held up the box, "Your gift."

"I don't want it," He said automatically.

"Don't disregard my gift," Malfoy said, irritation sharp in his voice, "Take the damn gift, Potter."

"I'm not going to accept a gift for helping someone. I didn't help you looking for a reward."

Malfoy swore under his breath and kicked at the sand, "That's not what the gift represents! It's to say thank you, not to reward you. It's an important tradition!"

"Just say thank you then and we'll be fine," Harry said.

"It's not that easy," He snapped, "The gift is a tradition. The item signifies the binding of an agreement-"

"What do you mean agreement?" Harry asked sharply.

Malfoy tapped the box, "It's an agreement that an equal trade was made. That the person who was defended has adequately returned the favor through money, and will continue to try to do so through action."

"I didn't even defend you!" Harry said, exasperated.

"You did, several times."

"Your mother paid me back for what happened at Hogwarts and what happened at the Ministry wasn't even saving your life," Harry said, irritated.

"Kylos was dueling to kill. He'd lost family to Death Eaters. You helped us at the Ministry trial as well. You kept me out of Azkaban. I owe you," Malfoy said his voice nearly bitter, "Hence the gift."

"Fine!" Harry said, "I'll take your bloody gift."

Malfoy handed it to him looking smug, "Finally came to your senses."

The box was deep red and made of soft material. Harry opened it cautiously. Inside was a silver earring with –if he wasn't mistaken- little diamonds on it, round and clear like mildew. Tiny red gems were scattered among them like drops of blood. It was beautiful, but Harry knew he couldn't accept something so expensive. He didn't even pierce his ears.

He held up the box to Malfoy, "I'm sorry but I can't accept this."

"I'm not taking it back," Malfoy said, "It's yours now."

"I don't even have pierced ears," Harry said, "What am I supposed to do with it?"

"Here," Malfoy took the earring, "Allow me."

Harry held still as Malfoy kneeled beside him. Malfoy's hands tickled his ear, there was a slight pinch and then he drew away. Harry touched his ear and felt the earring firmly in place. It was cold against his skin and his ear felt heavier than usual. Malfoy was still kneeling beside him, smirking as though very satisfied with himself.

"Thank you for defending me," Malfoy said quietly.

"You're welcome," He replied.

To his surprise, Malfoy didn't leave. Instead he sat down in the sand beside Harry and took off his shoes and socks. His feet were very slender and pale, moonlight on the sand. Harry didn't say anything and Malfoy didn't seem to want to either. They both sat listening to the roar of the sea, their feet just barely dipping into the seawater. Finally, when it felt like they both might never speak again, Malfoy spoke.

"I owe you a lot, Harry."

"I could say the same," He said, registering the use of his first name, "You saved our lives at the Manor."

Draco scoffed, "Yes, because hiding like a coward makes me such a hero. I'm going to pay you back, Harry. This won't be the last you see of me."

"I won't be able to shake you?" Harry asked, smiling a bit.

"Not even if you tried."

Once again there was only the sound of the ocean. It was a peaceful sound, a calm sound, and –Harry found- a sound better to be shared.

* * *

**A/N** I had fun writing this. I hope you enjoyed reading. Drop me a review to tell me what you liked.


	2. Cemetery Boy

**Title -** Cemetery Boy

**Summary - **AU where Harry never leaves the Dursleys to go to Hogwarts. He hides in a cemetery to escape his abusive cousin but finds out one day that the cemetery holds more than skeletons.

**Rating - **T

**Warnings - **Abuse, possibly triggering content. Please read cautiously.

* * *

The sky was a canvas of greys, airbrushed blues and purples. Harry could feel the wind chilling him to the bone as it whipped around him, dead autumn leaves flying up. No people were on the street. His messy hair was black against the white wall he was leaning on. It felt like tiny voices were whispering to him from the cracks in the wall. _Come join us. Come visit the grave_. A spiked iron fence had rusted words on it and creaked open easily at his touch. Leaves followed him in, dancing around him like crinkling voices. It felt even colder in the cemetery than it did outside.

Large trees were scattered along the path, boughs hanging under the weight of their leaves. The clouds seemed to have bleached the world; every color was only a grayed copy of its original. Harry's feet crunched on the gravel path as he walked among the graves. It felt peaceful here, but a shiver ran down his spine every time something moved in the corner of his eye. He didn't believe in ghosts, but he'd heard enough stories about psychos hiding in cemeteries. Maybe he was this cemetery's psycho. He came here enough. He haunted it like a ghost, visiting his grave year after year.

Unfortunately Harry wasn't a ghost. There was no grave to be his home, only graves with owners who had been long forgotten. His bruised flesh ached as he sat down at the unmarked grave he usual stayed near. He felt sorry for whoever was in the grave. It had to be lonely, having no visitors. The dirt smell seemed to fill the air as he listened to the wind scream. It would probably rain soon. He shifted and felt his ankle twinge. Yes, he was flesh, flesh and blood. He was no ghost, he bled, and he bruised. His cousin had made sure he knew that. He could bleed. He could break.

There was a small sigh beside him. Heart pounding he whipped around and saw nothing there. His green eyes were wide open as he looked around. Nobody else was in the graveyard. Nobody. Nobody but the dead. He tried to shrug it off, to relax, but he couldn't. The trees were leering at him, their branches and leaves hiding shadow monsters. His eyes were stinging from the wind but he didn't want to close them. Wind had begun to scream, it became so violent he could feel himself rattling. Leaves sliced through the air like razors, slamming into him, bouncing off graves. The cemetery was below freezing. There a loud crack and he took off running.

He was gasping for air when he'd ran a good few blocks away. People walked by, some stared but most pretended he didn't exist. Harry tried to get a hold of his trembling. He was scared, but the thought of returning to the Dursleys' made him shake more. It was well past sunset when he returned home. He had to be home before Dudley or they'd lock him out.

"Finally showed up, hmm boy?" Uncle Vernon snapped when he entered the house.

Uncle Vernon was a beefy blonde man with a very large moustache, beady eyes, and a very small heart. There was no room in it for Harry and he could see it in his eyes. Harry mumbled a greeting and headed to his cupboard under the stairs. It was cramped and filled with spiders, but it was all he had. He lied in his camp bed listening to the clock tick in the hallway and the distant sound of the television. Loneliness ached inside of him like a sore tooth. When Dudley came home he heard the usual squeals of delight from Aunt Petunia. His cousin made sure to smash a fist against his cupboard door as he past.

Falling asleep that night wasn't easy. Harry could still remember the way the wind had shrieked like someone being killed. Chills filled him at the thought, as though he was still standing in the gale. His cupboard seemed to be filled with moving things in the dark. It was probably true considering how many spiders lived with him. His mind was troubled when he finally dozed off and he had dreams filled with whispering graves.

The morning sun was weak and only occasionally peeked out from the clouds. Harry hurried to finish his chores, eager to leave the house. He knew Dudley was lounging around the house waiting for him to leave. His gang of friends were waiting around as well. They were all big ugly boys who liked hurting people, Dudley being the biggest and ugliest of them all. He wasn't as fat as he was, but he still had flat blonde hair and piggy blue eyes that made Harry want to vomit. The sun was high in the sky when Harry finished and he was dripping sweat.

He'd gotten about a block away when he heard the loud thuds and talking of Dudley's gang following him. No matter how fast Harry walked they only got louder and closer. Sweat dripped down his neck in the summer heat. Without warning, he took off running and the gang broke into hot pursuit. They called him names and swear words as he tore down the sidewalks, weaving his way to his destination. The cemetery gates were open when he arrived and he flew inside. Dudley's gang pooled around the gate making ugly faces and daring him to come out.

"Come on Harry!" Dudley yelled, "Come on out!"

"I rather stay with the ghosts, thanks," Harry said, backing up.

Dudley rattled the gate and sneered at him, "You think I'm scared of ghosts? I'll beat you to a pulp, you freak! I've been meaning to try out a new move."

"Try it on one of the other kids you like beating up," Harry said tauntingly, "Or are you too scared Mummy will find out Popkin did something wrong?"

Dudley flushed, "Fuck you!"

Harry backed up even further but Dudley shrugged open the gate and entered the cemetery. The air seemed to get chillier with every step he took. Harry turned tail and ran. His breath came in gasps as he pounded down the gravel path, whipping past graves. Dudley had always been too scared to enter the graveyard, it was the main reason Harry hung out in it all day. His stomach was in knots with the idea of what would happen if he was caught. The sun had gone behind the suddenly dark clouds and the trees groaned with the force of the wind.

A fist grabbed him by the shirt and he felt himself being slowly strangled as he was flung backwards. He had a second to register what was going on when the blows started raining down. His glasses were smashed and he felt shards cut his nose and cheeks. Everything hurt. It only lasted a couple minutes when his attackers began screaming. Harry didn't move, still curled up in a ball. He heard their footsteps fade into the distance, but he didn't want to move. Just twitching hurt. Bruises had been put over fading ones and he knew his body would feel even worse the next morning.

"Harry."

He looked up to see a boy crouched beside him. The boy looked to be about his age with pale blonde hair and colorless silver eyes. Harry had to blink a few time to really register what he was seeing. The boy was glowing, not brightly, but he gave off a faint silver sheen. His skin still had color but he was transparent and his colors were bleached. A ghost. Harry closed his eyes, but when he opened them the boy was still there. Dudley and his gang must have been scared off by him. Or Harry had just been beaten into hallucinating.

"Thanks," He said, figuring if the ghost had helped him he meant no harm.

"Are they the reason you visit me every day?" The ghost asked sadly.

Harry pulled himself into a sitting position, "Y-you're the unmarked grave?"

His body was aching with the blows he'd sustained. He was scared, his head hurt, he was confused. The ghost was watching him with sad, sad eyes. They were blurry but Harry thought they were sad. Maybe he was just being stupid, after all, not many people cared for the strange Potter boy. Who would be sad for him? The ghost spoke.

"Yes," He said, "Although it's not where my body lies. Do those boys hurt you often?"

"Yeah," Harry said, "But I usually can run away. This cemetery is safe. Was safe."

"It's sad when your safe place is a cemetery. Most would be scared to be among the dead."

"It's not that scary," Harry said, "Except yesterday . . . was that you?"

The ghost shifted his position, "I had wanted to speak with you. I had wanted to ask why you always visited me."

"What's your name? Why's your grave unmarked?" Harry asked.

"I'm Draco," He said, "My family was disgraced a long time ago so they couldn't bury me under their name. Or at least the bits of me they had to bury."

"Why did they only have bits?"

Draco didn't speak for a long moment. Harry could feel questions burning his lips. He was curious about this ghost, he was curious about this unreality. It was like for a couple minutes he was escaping the reality of his own life. A ghost had saved him. A ghost. For the first time in his life someone had stopped Dudley beating on him. Someone had actually cared. Draco may have been dead but Harry craved the affection he was giving.

"I was killed, brutally."

Harry blinked and felt his stomach churn, "And . . . they only got bits back?"

"My killer thought it would be amusing to chop off my arm and send it to them in pieces."

His voice was monotone, but Harry could hear the hurt behind it. It was raw enough to bleed.

"Who killed you?" Harry whispered.

"He went by many names, but Voldemort is his best known one."

Harry had heard of him. Mostly everyone had. He'd been a famous serial killer a few years ago. He'd killed loads of people and evaded the cops like it was easy. Voldemort had never been caught but he disappeared one day and hadn't surfaced since. His methods of killing had been known for being brutal. He would mutilate and torture his victims so thoroughly the doctors couldn't figure out the actual cause of death.

"I'm sorry," Harry said, unable to find words.

"It's over," Draco said, as if it made it all better.

"What happened to your parents?"

Draco's expression saddened, "I guess they're still alive. I don't know. I haven't left this cemetery in years. I'd like to see them."

"I could find them for you," Harry said quickly, "I could go looking-"

"You wouldn't find them easily," Draco interrupted, "If they've moved, which I assume they have, they'll be impossible to trace. I just wish . . ."

"What do you wish?" Harry asked.

"I wish they had a body to bury," He said quietly, "Not a fucking arm. Who wants to mourn a fucking arm?"

The sky was dark with storm clouds but not a drop of rain was falling. Every shadow in the cemetery was pitch and the air was sub-zero. Harry could feel the temperature drop as Draco's face darkened and the wind whip up. The cemetery was somehow in tune with Draco's emotions. It felt very sad and very hurt, but mostly angry. It seethed across the ground in the form of violent leaf spirals. The grass looked sharp like razors and the air smelled like chemicals.

"Where's your body?" Harry asked.

Draco gave him a blank look, like he'd forgotten who he was. His body began to fade. Harry tried to crawl toward him but his body screamed with every movement and he ended up panting in a pile. When he looked up Draco was gone. The cemetery began to warm but the sun didn't appear again and Harry still felt very cold.

Dudley didn't speak to him when Harry arrived home. During dinner Aunt Petunia pretended not to notice his cut up face or his black eye. He felt invisible in his chair. He felt like a ghost. His cousin only gave him scared glances whenever Harry moved. Clearly he was terrified by having seen Draco. Harry could feel a bitter pleasure in the fact that Dudley was scared. He deserved to be scared.

A month passed and Harry visited the cemetery every day. Draco would always appear and talk to him, but if Harry brought up his body Draco would disappear. He tried to keep the conversation clear of that. They talked about various things, everything from school to sports. It was something Harry had never had before. Nobody had ever wanted to talk to him for so long.

"I'd kill them," Draco spit venomously one afternoon.

They were sitting side by side on his unmarked grave. Harry had just finished telling him about Dudley's gang bullying him in school. Harry didn't see why it bothered Draco so much. The things the gang did during school hours were tame compared to what they did outside. If anything the bullying he endured at school was a relief. It was summer and he didn't get that relief anymore. The gang wouldn't enter the graveyard though so Harry found he had a nice trade off. Plus Draco really was great company. Maybe even a friend. Harry had never had a friend before.

"It's not that bad at school," He said, "Honestly I'm glad the teachers are there to keep them in check. They only get to pound on me a bit."

"A bit?!" Draco said, sounding choked, "Harry, the teachers are supposed to help you! Tell the principal!"

"It wouldn't help," Harry mumbled, "Besides it really doesn't matter-"

"It does matter!" Draco said fiercely, "_You matter_."

Harry ducked his head awkwardly. Draco kept saying things like that. He didn't really understand it. The Dursleys had made it clear he was nothing but a burden, nothing but a mistake-

"You're doing it again!" Draco snapped, "You're doing that thing where you believe what those Dursleys told you!"

"They've known me longer than you," Harry mumbled, "They know that I'm useless."

The wind began to pick up with Draco's anger, "_You're not useless Harry!_ I know you better than those monsters you call relatives do. Have they ever even held a conversation with you about anything?!"

"No."

"See?" Draco said, as though it explained everything, "They know _nothing_ about you! You're compassionate, you're brave, and you're loyal! Every day you've asked me about my body! Every day! You care about people, when most people in your position would have become stone cold!"

"How- how did you mention your body?" Harry asked.

Draco suddenly looked awkward, "I-I . . ."

"Draco," Harry said firmly, "How did you mention it without disappearing?"

There was a silence that stretched. Draco was wavering as though he was experiencing heavy emotion, but his body wasn't fading. The wind wasn't screaming but it was tugging at Harry's clothes like desperate fingers. High above them the sun had disappeared behind a cloud. Harry's breath was misting in front of him, glistening puffs of vapor.

"I'm scared."

Harry stared at him, "Why?"

"I don't know what's going to happen," Draco whispered, "I don't know if I'll just stop existing. I never wanted to die."

It hurt like heartache when Harry spoke, "But you can't just stay here forever. You deserve to finally rest. If there's a good place to go to, you'll go to it."

Draco stood up and began to walk away. Harry scrambled to his feet, trying to be easy on his painful body, and followed after him. Long shadows were cast on the graves in the setting sun. In the dim light Draco only appeared to glow more brightly. They walked to the back of the cemetery where the trees and bushes grew thickest. Draco passed through the brambles easily but Harry had to shove aside thorns and other plants that got in his way. He struggled through the brush for a few minutes until he came to a clearing. A skeleton missing an arm was lying there as though sleeping. A chill ran down Harry's spine and he felt his eyes begin to prickle with tears.

"Oh." He whispered.

"My parents wouldn't have moved," Draco said quietly, "You can find them at the Malfoy Manor." He listed off a phone number.

Harry's body felt numb. He was staring at the grooves in the bones where something had sliced deep enough to crack open into marrow. Just the thought of what Draco had endured made him feel freezing. Pieces of the skull were cracked or caved in. The teeth had been completely pulled out. The spine was broken in several places. He fell to his knees and began to heave.

"Why are you crying?" Draco asked.

"Oh my god," Harry gagged.

His entire stomach emptied and his mouth tasted vile. Tears were pouring down his face freely and he couldn't stop imagining what Draco must have been put through. He placed his hand where Draco's would be and felt the icy cold on his fingertips. He sat like that for what felt like a long time. Every time he thought he'd be done crying he'd noticed a new gruesome aspect of Draco's skeleton and begin sobbing uncontrollably again.

Four days later was Draco's funeral. Harry was invited. He would always remember the grief in the Malfoys' faces. He'd always remember the grief in his own heart, like a dagger being twisted over and over. Harry had never been to a funeral before and he decided he never wanted to be to one again. Somehow he managed to keep a constant stream of tears the entire funeral. Each detail he learned about Draco's life made him cry harder. He could feel his heart bleeding, every pump of blood was painful. He'd lost his only friend, the only person who cared about him.

At the end of the funeral the Dursleys came to get Harry. Every step he took towards the car he could feel his heart sinking lower. He would be going back to the Dursleys. He'd be going back to visiting the cemetery every day, only this time alone. It was like someone had turned his feet into lead. Every step he took away from the coffin made him heavier. He kept hoping he'd see a silver glow among the crowd.

"Excuse me, if I may have a moment Potter?"

Harry turned to see Draco's father standing behind him. He resembled Draco greatly; the same blonde hair, silver eyes, and pointed, pale, face. Maybe Draco would have looked like him when he'd grown older. The thought made Harry's chest tighten.

"Yes?" Harry said.

"My wife and I were wondering how you got such injuries," Mr. Malfoy said, "Perhaps a fight?"

Harry could tell he knew without asking, "No, sir. It was one-sided."

Mr. Malfoy gave him a calculating look, "Potter, if you're being abused please tell me. Draco would have wanted you to tell someone. I can get you help."

Harry hesitated, and then he began talking. He let it all spill out like pitch black ink across a white page. The thought of Draco kept him going, he knew his friend would have wanted this. He wanted him to get help. The hurting wouldn't end here, but it could be lessened and he could learn to heal. One step at a time until he met him again.

* * *

**A/N** Ghost AUs are very angsty.


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